


My Friends and I, We Got a Lot of Problems

by n00dl3Gal



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Analysis, Character Study, Gen, Hallucinations, Introspection, Mention of Death, Psychology, Serious in nature, Spoilers, Tags In Each Chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6887923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n00dl3Gal/pseuds/n00dl3Gal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them were completely fine. In fact, most of them were really quite messed up. </p><p>But that's OK. At least they have each other.</p><p>(A look at the biggest issues/problems/insecurities of the mercs. Title from Polarize by twenty one pilots.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloodlust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy isn't always so boisterous.

Heavy doesn’t always enjoy going into battle. At least, not entirely.

It’s almost as if the second he steps out of RED base, he’s a completely different person. Crazed. Bloodthirsty. Obnoxious. Idiotic. Nothing like how he behaves during the off hours. 

He goes to Medic, asking if there’s a reason behind his split personality. The (former) doctor shrugs. “I’m not a doctor of psychology, mein freund, but I doubt it is bipolar or schizophrenia. Most likely a severe case of bloodlust. Nothing to fear, since it only appears on ze battlefield.” 

At first, this answer satisfies him. But over time, Heavy realizes he gains no real joy from the slaughter. Not even a sense of accomplishment. He only feels even the slightest amount of pride when he saves one of his teammates from another respawn. 

He wonders if it’s his protective nature. Growing up in the Siberian tundra with three younger sisters while on the run from a gulag tends to change a man. And his fellow mercenaries- and assassins- are so tiny in comparison to him. Does he fancy himself their new guardian? 

He still doesn’t know the answer, but Heavy sleeps a little easier that night, Sasha in the bed beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I really have no idea what this is.
> 
> EDIT: MAJOR MAJOR THANK YOU for getting this fic onto the Fanfic Recs page of the TF2 TV Tropes!! I'm freaking out here you have no clue lajfdjafuiafjdlfjal


	2. Antisocial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper is just introverted.

“I am not antisocial!” Sniper screams down the phone, face contorted in exasperation. “How many times do I have ta say it- I’m not some lunatic wit a gun! It’s my job, Dad!” There’s a moment of silence as the Australian composes himself. “I… Yes, I’ll make sure ta call for Mum’s birthday… Yeah. Talk to you later.” He hangs up with a sigh. 

Engineer gently pats his back. “I hate to say it, slim, but your father has a bit of a point. You’re not exactly the most outgoing member of the team. Tend to hol' up in that van of yours and go off Lord knows where durin' a fight.”

“It’s me job to stay hidden and snipe, Truckie.” 

There’s a gesture of dismissal from the Texan. “Do what y'all think is right.” With that hanging in the air, Engineer departs. Sniper mulls over the comments. He’s not insane; not even anti social. Just… a lone wolf. Who tends to avoid all his colleagues and often wonders why he gave up freelance and solitary work for this (aside from the paycheck). 

Maybe Engineer had a point. He should at least make an effort to get to know his coworkers. 

Sniper heads back inside to grab a beer, and sits down for a chat with Demo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have seven of these things done, might as well post them.


	3. Egotistical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout isn't a narcissist.

Scout sends the most mail out of anyone on the team. “Hafta keep my Ma up to date,” he explains, dropping another letter off at the Teufort post office. “She worries a lot, y’know?” 

And maybe his constant stream of outgoing mail is a relic of his past. With seven older brothers, you have to be loud to be heard. You have to be sure to differentiate yourself enough so that you’re called the right name on your birthday. 

That does occasionally involve stretching the truth a bit. But Scout wouldn’t lie to his mother. Exaggeration doesn’t count, he reasons. Just a little embellishment. Make him stand out.

When he first joined RED, he thought he was finally going to be recognized as someone with talent. Someone worth paying attention to. Then he arrived at the base and was surrounded by men taller and buffer than he could ever dream of being. It was almost as if he never left home. 

He needed to stand out there too, and old habits die hard. 

A shred of doubt does cross his mind from time to time. Scout doesn’t like boasting and being cocky, at least not to this degree. 

But then he gets a letter back from Ma with the right name at the top and he forgets his humility yet again. For now, at least, Pyro will entertain him of his tales of grandiosity.


	4. Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soldier is not crazy.

In the back of his mind, Soldier knows that what he’s spewing is complete bullshit, but it’s not enough to stop the words from coming. 

It’s been a problem since he was a child. Some called them delusions, some called them fantasies. Professionals called them words he couldn’t pronounce. But they felt real enough to him, and were often far preferable to the “real” world. 

He proves them wrong, too. They said he couldn’t join the military- alright, they were correct about that, but he still managed to kick Nazi Germany’s sorry ass. And now he’s ridding the world of disgusting hippies, guided by the helpful advice of his friendly shovel. 

“Soldier should visit doctor, yes? Took nasty wound today in battle,” Heavy observes, glancing at the American. 

Soldier pulls a can of beer from the fridge and crack opens the top. “Good idea. Those Commies tried their damndest to kill me, but nothing on God’s green Earth could stop me.” 

The other man smiles, perhaps a bit weakly. “Da. Commies are dead. You did well, Soldier. But take care of wound.” 

There’s a mutter of agreement before he shuffles off towards the medical bay. He’s got good teammates. He’d trust them no matter what, even if they weren’t American.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should sleep, sorry if this offends you


	5. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy isn't sure how to make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some headcanons in this vignette, because I have little to no self-control.

He regrets not being able to see her more often, but at least he can watch her- their- son. 

Spy is honestly astounded his DNA created this… being. Not even from a physical standpoint; no, he’s undeniably his mother’s child, and he did inherit his eyes. No, it’s the personality. He’s rude and foul-mouthed and above all else, loud. Like his legs, the boy’s mouth goes a mile per minute. 

If he had been around, he would’ve raised him better. But he wasn’t. 

Nevertheless, he takes this opportunity to guide him towards being a more mature adult. It’s a failed journey from the get-go, but it gives him some peace of mind after years of missed birthdays, crushes, baseball games, and smiles. 

“You did well today, Scout,” Spy says abruptly, putting his revolver back in its case. 

For the first time since joining the team, the younger man is caught off guard without a response. “Where’s this comin’ from?”

He shrugs. “Just an observation. You made quick work of the enemy Sniper.” 

“Heh, hell yeah I did! God, he’s just the worst, y’know? Jus’ standin’ around, actin’ like he’s the biggest fuckin’ deal with his fancy rifle…” Scout continues, no doubt retelling the whole battle in exaggerated detail. 

It’s annoying, but Spy is willing to put up with it, for now, at least. His son is safe, and that’s what truly matters.


	6. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engineer needs his rest- he's human, too.

“You really shouldn’t stay up so late, Herr Engineer,” Medic chastises him. “It impairs your performance and your higher brain functions. Something a tad vital in your line of work, I daresay.” 

Engineer glances at the clock over his workbench. One in the morning. “Heh. Thanks, Doc. Almost pulled another all nighter.”   
He’s always been a workaholic, something that irked both his parents and his wife to no end. Could never take time for himself to relax. His tendency to lose track of time didn’t help, either. It caused more than a few problems over his lifetime, from oversleeping and missing class to a lack of focus during a battle. 

This, combined with his rather stubborn nature, didn’t make him the most popular of coworkers. Between refusing to bend the rules or let loose and unwind made him ornery and nearly unreasonable at times. A good night’s sleep could counteract this, but… well, Engineer couldn’t exactly remember when he last went to bed before 11 PM.

He looks at the project he was currently tinkering on- messing with an old Sapper of Spy’s to see if he could beef up his Sentry’s defenses. He is so close to cracking how it worked- just what properties allowed it to destroy a perfectly good gun- but Medic was right. He sets down his wire cutters and yawns. “Say, what’re y’all doin’ up, anyway?” 

“Archimedes made some noise, so I was settling him down when I noticed the light was still on. Good night, Dell.” 

Engineer wipes some sweat from his forehead with a greasy oilcloth. “Night, Doc.” In a few short seconds, the workshop is dark, experiments waiting for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to actually write the last two vignettes...


	7. Imaginary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro loves the colors.

Fire is just so… beautiful. Colorful. Happy. It makes others happy, too. And that is why Pyro loves it so much.

But they can’t exactly play with fire around their friends. No, the rest of RED make it very clear that fire does NOT make them happy. It only makes BLU happy- and it is Pyro’s job to make them as happy as possible during work hours. That’s fine. They can still share fire and its beauty with people. 

Sometimes, though, they miss fire. When the rest of RED is talking, and Pyro just sits, wishing Ballonicorn and the colors would come back. No. Only during work hours. They’ll be fine until tomorrow. 

Can they, though? It’s so… tempting… there must be a way… 

They notice Spy in his armchair, smoking, box of matches on the side table. He wouldn’t miss just one, would he? Just… one… 

“Pyro! Come here, lad! Wanna show ya somethin’ outside!” 

Pyro shuffles over towards Demoman as they head out into the humid New Mexico night. “First ye take a bottle of Scrumpy, then an ol’ rag…” The Scottish man stuffs the cloth down the bottle. “Light a match an’-” He chucks it as far as he can before the Molotov cocktail begins to burn, creating a trail among the stars. “Whataya think, boyo?”

They don’t answer. They’re too invested watching a rainbow shine across the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still need to write Demoman and Medic... I'll get to it eventually...


	8. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Demoman, old habits die hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for alcohol abuse/alcoholism in this vignette. It's not heavily abused, but it is discussed and referenced throughout the whole piece.

If you had seen half the shit Demoman had, you’d drink too. 

Honestly, he’s surprised he hasn’t died at this point, but maybe that’s respawn’s doing. Or Merasmus. Either are equally possible. 

Contrary to what the rest of RED may think, he does know when to stop, let it flush from his system. When he’s at home, for instance, he’s almost always sober. He claims it’s because the smell bothers his mum, but it’s a lie. It’s because there’s nothing he needs to forget then. 

Even on the battlefield, he keeps his alcohol consumption to a minimum. Maybe a small swig here or there, but too much. Nobody wants the man tasked with working with explosives to be more than a wee bit tipsy. 

Demoman does wish he could stop, though. Have his relaxing round of beers with Engineer and Soldier not end with him passed out and a tab as long as his arm. 

He walks into the kitchen to find Soldier mulling over a bottle. “Aye, lad, what’s the problem?” 

The American looks up, frown firmly set. “This beer. It’s imported. And I’ve been drinking it.” 

Demo shrugs, taking a seat across from him. “So? Ya like pizza, right?” There’s a nod in response. “That’s from Italy, same place as that Mussolini fella ya hate. But ya still eat it.” 

Soldier still seems wary. “I suppose… but it’s not very good beer, regardless.” 

That made the Scot chuckle. “Well if that’s yer problem, I can solve that right quick,” he announces, pulling a bottle of scrumpy down from the top shelf. “Drink up, boyo.” 

He can always sober up tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one left. Thanks for sticking with this little project of mine.


	9. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic can't undo the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. I was really struggling to come up with a story for Medic, but eventually I figured something out. 
> 
> Spoilers for TF Comics, specifically "Blood in the Water" and "Old Wounds."

Medic does admit that he made a mistake. But, he reasons, it was a good idea at the time. Animal organs are not cheap, and it’s much easier to purchase them rather than get them himself. 

Still, when the Gray Mann, the robots, and the original team are dealt with, he struggles to regain his footing with the rest of RED. Pyro didn’t behave much differently, but that wasn’t saying much. 

Oh, they still let him do his job- calling out on the battlefield, accepting a blast from the Medigun, and offering a small thanks when their wounds are gone. But once the day is through, they shuffle around him and quiet when he emerges from the medical bay. Heavy is a bit more stingy with his Sandviches, and even Scout seems more mute. 

He has Archimedes, of course, along with the rest of his small flock. But Medic needs human contact and socialization, just as much as his teammates. 

He needs friends, just like anybody else. 

He’s putting away his bonesaw when there’s a slight cough behind him. “Ja?” he asks, turning. Sniper stands there, looking sheepish. 

“Uh, hey, Doc… Wanted to see if ya… me an’ Demo we’re just settlin’ down fer a beer an’ maybe a game o’ cards… fancy joinin’ us?” 

The German blinks a few times. “Are you serious?” Sniper shrugs. “I thought zat after everything zat had happened, you especially-” 

The Australian dismisses the comment with his hand. “We all make mistakes, Medic. Sure, ya joined the blokes that killed me, but ya brought me back. I owe ya for that. ‘Sides, out here, can’t really stay bitter.” He holds out his hand, slight smile on his lips. “Or all alone. C’mon now, Doc. Demo’s waitin’.” 

Medic accepts offer and is pulled to his feet, lips turning upwards. He might be flawed, but so is everyone else fighting in this miserable desert. 

They might as well make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure about this ending, but it feels proper to me, if a bit cliche. 
> 
> Thanks for indulging me in this little analysis.


End file.
